


As NASCAR Turns (Left)....

by Resistance



Category: NASCAR RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-25 11:05:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2619446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resistance/pseuds/Resistance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of short scenes that pop into my head that have no business being their own fics, but need a home nonetheless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ryan and Darrell: November 14, 2014 (Homestead)

"Did you think about doing it?"

Darrell couldn't help the smile, turning towards the source of the voice. Ryan's voice always made him smile, that had been one of his first clues. "About what?" He asked with faux innocence.

Ryan wasn't the only one wondering, he was just the only one with enough nerve to ask aloud, "Did. You. Think. About. Doing. It?" He asked again, moving into Darrell's personal space, backing him into a hidden alcove away from all the press that was far too eager to film 'them'.

Darrell's smile grew, and he let the silence hang for a moment. There was only one possible answer, the truth. "Not for a second."

Ryan let out the breath he'd held, "Good. I'd hate to hafta dump you now, we might be all we have next year."

Darrell gave him a little shove, "Don't talk like that. C'mon, let's go. I'm buyin'."

"Hey," Ryan put a hand on his arm to stop him from moving away, "Congrats. I mean that."

"Thanks. Congrats to you too." Darrell's smile became a smirk.

Even if he might regret it, Ryan asked, "For what?"

"You got me, don't ya? That's better than some trophy."

Ryan paused for a second, just a second, before he smiled, "You got a point there." He slid his hands up to pull Darrell into the kind of kiss that could really make him believe that was true.


	2. Ryan and Darrell, November 17, 2014

"Babe, your turn to load the dishwasher." 

"I'm the most popular Truck driver." 

"I won four races."

"I drove a car."

"I drove a car, too."

"I _won_ in a car."

"I got us that annoying clock."

"That's last year's clock, it don't count."

"Fine, I annoyed us and my mom with clocks."

"I got us some trophies too."

"I had nine top fives."

"I had twelve top fives."

Narrows his eyes, "I...--"

"I still have two Sprint Cup finishes I haven't used."

"Fine, I'll load the dishwasher."


	3. Jimmie and Dale: October 27, 2014 (Martinsville)

Jimmie shifted for what seemed like the millionth time, careful not to knock the arm that was draped over his waist. If they were going to spend the night together-- which lately had been happening more and more-- they almost always chose to stay at Jimmie’s house so they could be there for the girls in the morning. But Chandra had taken them out of town and all Dale would talk about was how comfortable his new mattress was. Truthfully, it was very comfortable, but still Jimmie couldn’t sleep.

He turned over again and was met by opened eyes. “You’re making me seasick.”

“Sorry. I’m just plotting how I’m going to run you into a wall in March.” Jimmie turned over again and pressed his head into the pillow.

“What?”

“March. Because I swear to God, you will never get another clock.”

“You have a bunch of them.”

“In storage. They’re evil. They’re loud. You’re not supposed to set it up.”

“I like it. The ticking is soothing.”

“I’m never staying here again.”

“Next clock I win, I’m giving to Evie and I’m going to tell her all about how my dad loved his clock and how I used to play in front of it so I could hear it chime, just to make sure she winds it every single day.”

“I hate you.”

“I know. C’mere and show me now that you’ve woken me up.”

Jimmie shifted again and looked down at the man beside him with a sigh, “You don’t deserve it.”

“I know. Kiss me anyway.”

Even if he wanted to protest, the look in Dale’s eyes was just too much to resist. The moment their lips touched, Jimmie found-- annoyingly so-- that he’d forgotten why he was upset in the first place. Besides, it was hard to hear the grandfather clock over the chirping birds flying around his head.


	4. Kasey and Denny: July 6, 2015 (Daytona)

_3:05am, Kasey's Motorcoach_

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, they checked me out, I'm fine."

"Good. So I can tell you to go to hell without guilt."

"Kasey... it's the sport...."

"I got more help from _Truex_ out there."

"But--"

"I got more help from  _Harvick_ out there."

"But--"

"I got more help from fuckin'  _Jeff_ out there!"

"But--"

"And what did I get from my fiancé? I got  _screwed_."

"Kase--"

"I understand that it is the mission of every goddamn Gibbs driver to screw me in as many ways possible, but you've already got one way covered, I thought that might be enough for you! And besides, it was Matt's turn to screw me today. You have to take a number, get in line if you want your turn to screw me again."  _  
_

"How long am I in trouble?"

"Start walking now. We'll talk in Kentucky."


	5. Ryan and Darrell: July 7, 2015

> _Just your average Tuesday at home....._

"I'm driving!" Ryan grabbed the keys off the counter and held them up above his head, despite the fact that he had no height advantage over Darrell at all.

Darrell shook his head, making no reach for the keys, "Fine with me. You know what that means."

Ryan's face fell. He dropped the keys to his side, "Oh. But--"

"Rules are rules, babe." Darrell was trying, but failing, to hide his smirk. He watched the gears in his boyfriend's head turn, waiting for smoke to start coming out of his ears.

He sighed dramatically, but handed the keys over to Darrell. With all the three-year-old he could muster, Ryan stomped over to the passenger's side and got in.

Just barely containing his laugh, Darrell took his usual spot in the driver's seat, "You could drive, y'know."

Ryan had already put his sun glasses into place, but Darrell could tell he was being glared at. "I  _could_. But then you'd take it out of the CD player. I know you would."

"Mmhmm." Darrell started the car, stealing a glance at Ryan as the music began.

The very familiar strains of guitar and banjo filled the car and Darrell couldn't help but smile at the joy on Ryan's face. Every time. He couldn't understand it, but every time that CD started, Ryan smiled like it was the first time he was hearing it. Darrell was more than sick of hearing it over and over, but he couldn't get past the look on Ryan's face long enough to take the CD out of the player. Besides, if Ryan wanted to hear it, he had to give up the keys. It was worth it.

Truth be told, Ryan's smile was worth it.

_(Inspired by[this tweet](https://twitter.com/BubbaWallace/status/619622780842180608).)_


	6. Ryan and Darrell: October 14, 2015

> Another day in the life....

"I was thinking."

Darrell opened one eye, then the other, giving Ryan a slightly annoyed look, "Then I didn't do a good enough job."

Ryan laughed, shifting to curl closer to him despite the fact he was already burrowed comfortably into his side, his usual spot. "No. I was just wondering something."

"Yes, we can do that again, just give me about ten more minutes." Darrell's hands ran over his back teasingly. 

Ryan groaned, "I didn't mean _that_." He propped himself up so he could meet Darrell's eyes, but at the look in his eyes and the smirk on his lips, Ryan couldn't help the soft moan, "Don't look at me like that or I'll never get my question out!" 

Darrell smirked even more, sliding his hands down to cup his ass, "I know." 

Ryan huffed, "Stop that! I'm serious! I have a question." He pushed himself up, straddling Darrell's legs, "Can you look up here?" He asked, pointing to his eyes. 

Darrell's look purposefully raked along Ryan's body before settling on his face, but his smirk was still purely sexual. "I can try." 

"You are such a slut. Why do I want to marry you?" Ryan crossed his arms. 

Darrell's look softened, as is always did when Ryan mentioned how the most nerve-wracking ten minutes of his life ended in the best 'yes' he ever heard. "Because you love me," he pointed out with a smile. "Because you're dumb enough to want to spend the rest of your life with me."

"Smart enough, you mean." Ryan leaned forward, bracing himself with hands on either side of Darrell's head, "I'm brilliant, remember?" 

Darrell laughed, "Yes, babe, you're brilliant." His hands found his way over his back again, pulling him close, back into his spot, closing his eyes. "Yeah, that's where you belong, right there. Is that all you wanted to talk about?"

"Mm mm," Ryan murmured into his chest, "I want you to take my name." 

Darrell's eyes snapped open, "You what?" 

Ryan stifled a giggle, "My name. You should take my name when we get married."

Darrell scoffed, "You think I  _look_ like a Blaney? There's Black Irish and then there's  _black_ Irish." 

"You're not using that as an excuse. You're taking my name. You're going to be my husband, Darrell Blaney. Get used to it."

Darrell shifted to look at him, "That's weird. Why don't you take my name? You're going to be my husband, too. And I was the one that asked you! I asked, you take my name."

Ryan grinned, as if he'd been waiting for him to say that. "Get your phone." 

As he reached for where his pants had landed on the floor, Darrell gave him a look, "If you're going to call Chase, I'm not sleeping with you again." 

"I'm not going to call Chase! He's weird about this kinda stuff now. Just give me that." Ryan took the phone from his hands, turning the screen so he couldn't see it as he began to type something in. With a smirk, he turned the screen back to him, ["See what you get when you Google 'Darrell Blaney'?](http://i64.tinypic.com/wtf810.png) See? Us. Everyone thinks that you should take my name."

Darrell looked at the screen with an expression that was trying very hard to be a frown. But despite that, row after row of people taking and posting pictures of the two of them together was enough force the ends of his lips to curl up. "Well, do it the other way. What do you get?"

Offhandedly, Ryan said, "Some weird artist guy."

Darrell laughed out loud, "You've googled this before. You checked. I knew you googled yourself, but I didn't know you googled us! Do you do it a lot?"

Ryan blushed, "After you asked me... I started thinking about it." He tossed the phone aside, curling back into his chest, "After you asked me, I started thinking about a lot of things."

Darrell's arms slipped around him, holding him close, "Like forever?" 

"Mmhmm. And us." Ryan let out a slow breath, moving as close to him as he possibly could, "I love you." 

Darrell smiled, "I love you too. Maybe I could get used to 'Darrell Blaney'. If you want me to. I think I could get used to anything, if you wanted me to."

Ryan didn't dare look up at him, he could feel his eyes prickle, "How about Wallace-Blaney?"

"Sounds good to me. Damn good." Darrell closed his eyes, wrapping his arms tighter around Ryan, "Feels good, too."

"Feels like forever."


	7. Chase Elliott: February 21, 2106 (Daytona)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You would need to read my other Chase pieces for this to make sense.

_Over private radio:_

**Dale:** Is Chase okay?

 **Greg:** He's fine. Got out on his own. The damage was just--

 **Dale:** No. Is Chase _okay_?

 **Greg:** Checking. [pause] Alan says the first thing he said over the radio was to tell you he's really fine.

 **Dale:** That's my little brother. Make sure he knows you told me.

 **Greg:** 10-4.

 

_Sitting on the floor in a quiet corner of the garage:_

"Well.... that's not how I planned it, Papa. But I'm okay. Dale's racing real well, so that's good. Kasey's, well... y'know. But he'll do okay. Well, I mean, probably not in this race, but he's fine. I'm fine too. My car is all fucked up but it was just the grass, not anyone hitting me. And y'know I'm fine. And it was like lap twenty or something, not the end of the race, so it's not a big deal or anything. I mean everyone crashes at Daytona. Probably makes me a real Cup driver now that I have, right?"

"Sorry to interrupt you." She tried to keep her voice as soft as possible, but even so, Chase jumped nearly out of his firesuit. 

With a blush, he looked up at her, "Uh, no problem. I'm fine." 

She smiled at him, the way someone might at a puppy that was trying to climb on the couch, "I know that. But he doesn't." And a small bundled was plopped into his lap. 

Chase smiled, "Hey there, little man." He hugged Tanner tightly, and smiled when the little boy snuggled into him happily, gripping a handful of the collar of his suit. "Well now you do. I'm okay. I'm even better now." He looked up at her, "I'll keep him for a while, okay?"

She nodded, "I thought you might. Text me when I need to come get him, I'll leave you two alone." 

Chase gave her a grateful smile, then turned his attention to the baby against his chest, "This race kinda sucks for us, Tan, but we're okay. And we'll do better in Atlanta. Y'know your daddy has won that race. Maybe he can do it again. You'll love being in Victory Lane with him. Especially when you're old enough to stand next to him. Believe me, Tan, that's one of the best feelings in the whole world, standing next to your dad after he's won. Sorry you've gotta be like me, you can only stand next to one dad. But you'll know that I want you there when I win too, I'll make sure of it. Just like my papa did." Chase wiped a tear away before the baby could notice it. Slinging Tanner onto his hip, he stood up, heading over to the monitors, "Let's check out how Daddy is doing." 

Even if he couldn't remember it, he knew this same scene had happened nearly twenty years in the past. And he knew that his papa had meant every word he'd said just as much as Tanner's papa did. And that made the wreck a little easier to take. 

 

_Over private radio:_

**Eddie:** He's fine. We heard it from him. Focus.

 **Chase:** 10-4.


	8. Jimmie and Dale: September 10, 2016 (Richmond)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dale will miss the rest of the season because of a concussion, and Jeff Gordon has been driving his car for him.

Getting comfortable in his motor-coach, Jimmie answered the phone. The call had become a habit between them after every race they hadn't been able to run together and he wouldn't think of leaving the track without talking to him, just like they'd done when he was able to race. "Hello, Scrambled Eggs, how are you feeling?"

"I have a question."

"I can answer your question if you answer mine."

"I'm fine. I could watch cars going in circles and I didn't want to throw up. Lydia jumped on me and I didn’t see little black spots. Overall, it was a good day up in the egg."

"Good. Now you can ask yours."

Dale took a minute that had nothing to do with his concussion and all to do with choosing his words carefully. "Was Jeff always that bad?"

Jimmie laughed so hard he had to move the phone away to regain his composure before he answered, “No,” he managed to cough out, “He was nice enough to save that for the 88.”

“I save up all my not-dizzy time to watch this thing and what do I see? My car sucked. My boyfriend sucked. My little brother sucked. Kasey did okay. He was the best one out of our lot. What does that say for us?”

“Be nice.”

“That wasn’t nice? I just mean—”

“I know, I know.” Jimmie sighed, “Jeff didn’t expect to be back in a car so he—”

“Forgot how to drive? Decided to prove that all his wins were a fluke?”

He had to stifle another laugh, “No, he just—”

“Sucks. He sucks. Because the roof doesn’t say 24, he can’t drive it. And he drives his sucky ass into Chase because he’s got that number and he’s jealous. I’m going to have to kill Jeff. I swear it, JJ, when he gets back here and we meet up, I’m going to kill him and put Alex in the car and everything will be fine.”

“I’ll start scouting spots to hide the body as soon as I get back.”

“That’s why I love you.”

“I know.”


	9. Jimmie and Dale: October 30, 2016 (Martinsville)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have to read [Chapter 3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2619446/chapters/8491972) to get this joke. Genevieve (Earnhardt) Johnson is speaking.

I was pretty excited when Daddy won, but then I remembered that THIS is the one that he swore he was never going to win again because when Papa won two years ago the clock drove him crazy. I started giggling watching him do burn-outs, but no one got what was so funny. Daddy was happy he won, sure, but I knew he was thinking what I was thinking too. Papa was too. I'm sure of it. He was doing the talking on TV stuff. When he's not sitting with us, that's where he always is. Mommy carried Lydia, but I started running over to Daddy as soon as I could. They were talking to him, of course. They always talk to him forever. 

"Daddy! We won! We got a clock like Papa's!" 

He smiled at me and said something to the man with the microphone and then pointed at Lydia. I didn't really care what they were talking about. I ran around the car, it looked perfect. That was important, but I always forgot why. I liked to check my daddy's car and my papa's car after races. Sometimes I would check my uncles' cars too. A while ago I used to know why they had to look perfect, but now I just knew that they did. Sometimes they didn't, and then I would have to check on whoever's car it was. But today, everyone's car looked perfect. I didn't check Papa's car, because he wasn't driving it anymore for right now. 

It took a while for them to get everything set up in Victory Lane. There were so many people around, but I saw it there! It was up on the stage part that they had to roll out onto the track. Most tracks had a special spot, but this one just made it up in the middle of the track. That was kinda weird, but every time Daddy won it was special. As soon as they would let me, I climbed up onto the platform. There it was! My clock. 

I circled around and around it. It looked just like Papa's, the one he has at his house in the TV room, right near the door. It's so pretty. The one that Papa has ticks softly, but the one that they're giving Daddy doesn't make any sound yet. But I know how to fix that. Papa showed me how to wind it up. You pull on the chain so the weights lift up and then you push the hanging down thing and it tick, tick, ticks all day long. It makes bell chime noises every hour if you set it to do that, but usually Papa doesn't have his set to do that because it's pretty loud. I was circling around and around the clock when I heard my uncle's voice.

"Great looking clock, huh, EJ?" Uncle Kasey grinned at me and I couldn't help but giggle. He looked like he was about to get into trouble and that's a funny face to see on him. Uncle Chase had started calling me EJ a while ago and pretty much everyone else picked it up from him. He gets what it's like to have a secret papa and to not get to use both last names even though you really really want to. That's why he gave me that nickname. It's special. 

"Uh huh! Daddy said he wasn't gonna win me one, but he did!" I trailed my hand over the shiny wood, "It's so pretty." 

"Your daddy did a great job with that race. Uncle Chase has to do some post-race stuff, but he wanted me to make sure you were enjoying your clock. And I wanted to congratulate your daddy personally." 

"Kahne, I'm going to kill him." My Daddy's words weren't very friendly, but his voice wasn't a mad one. He and Uncle Kasey started talking and laughing and patting each other on the shoulders, so I knew he wasn't really mad. I didn't pay attention to the talking, though, because it was boring stuff that I couldn't understand. Daddy's crew were getting bags full of different colored hats, which meant it was almost time to take a million pictures.

I stared up at my clock, thinking about how I was going to put it right in my bedroom and I was going to wind it up every day. I was thinking about how my Papa told me stories about how his daddy had won one and how when he was little, he used to sit in front of it and play with his cars. And Uncle Chase told me that he used to sit in front of it and play too. And I was thinking about how I couldn't wait to sit on the floor in front of it and play just like they did. 

I caught Daddy giving the clock a mad look. "Isn't it the prettiest, Daddy? Just like the one Papa has!" 

"Yes, it is pretty. Just like the one Papa has." He looked at the clock again, but his look wasn't so mad this time. 


	10. Kasey and Chase: August 28, 2017

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'll post the Kasey and Chase fic that explains how they hooked up. Eventually. Just accept that they have.

"It's official!" Chase tossed his phone towards the coffee table and pounced onto the couch. Two sets of bright blue eyes widened in surprise and turned to him. He was almost used to them doing that in unison, but it still made him laugh. Their identical slightly annoyed expressions were hysterical considering interrupting yet another Blaze and the Monster Machines episode should have only upset one of them. 

"Congratulations. I know how much you wanted it." Kasey's voice was carefully neutral and Chase understood that a lot of that came from what Kasey thought about his dad's politics. 

Chase sighed and his bright smile dimmed a little, "It's not just about him, you know that, right? I mean they're all gonna be talking about him and like legacy and everything. And I _know_  Dale went on and on about forging my own number and all that, but it was never gonna be in the 24, that was always gonna be Jeff's. And... driving the 9, it's not about him. Not just about him. At least to me. It's..." 

Kasey smiled, settling Tanner on the floor in front of the TV, letting the Blaze episode continue. He turned his full attention to Chase, "I know." 

"You do? I mean, yeah, 'course you do. But, Kase, look.... not being in that garage with you next season... the idea of being able to drive the 9..." 

"I'm still there? It's not like that. Don't throwback to me yet, okay?" Kasey shook his head, "You know why I didn't like the idea, same reasons Dale didn't. But we both understand that you have your own reasons." 

"But you know it's not about my dad. When you started driving the 9... I know I told you this but.... I was supposed to be mad about it, but I..." 

"You never told me about that. You what?" Kasey's eyebrows raised. 

Chase blushed, "Oh, well, I told someone.... anyway, you were kinda shoving my dad outta the car, like I mean you were so good and he was... well, y'know, at the end of his career. So Starr was like really pissed about it, like 'who the hell were you stepping in like that' kind of pissed But I wasn't mad. I was..." 

Kasey was fighting a grin at Chase's blush, "You were what?" Chase pursed his lips together and side-eyed Kasey as hard as he could, which only served to break whatever will was holding back Kasey's laugh. At Chase's glare, he coughed, shaking his head, "Sorry." 

"At the risk of giving you more to laugh at me about, the thought of you in the 9...." He bit his lip, his cheeks deep pink that not even his scruffy beard could hide.

"Kept you warm at night?" Kasey suggested with another barely controlled laugh. 

Chase gave him a shove, "Shut up, if you want anything to be warm tonight." 

Kasey tried to look contrite, which was hard with how much he wanted to laugh, "So you've been working this hard to get the 9 back because it turns you on?!" 

"God! It's not just that! I'm not constantly thinking with my dick, you know?" 

"Really?" 

Chase scoffed, shoving Kasey back against the couch, moving over to straddle his lap, "I was trying to make this like a thing, but no... you always have to go there!" 

Kasey smirked, despite blushing a little himself, "I've got a twenty-one-year-old boyfriend, why wouldn't I go there?" He slid a hand up under Chase's t-shirt, just resting it skin against skin, "But I understand what you were saying now. You're a romantic." 

Chase shrugged, "So what if I am?" 

Instead of answering, Kasey wrapped his arms around him, pulling him down into a kiss. 


End file.
